


One Hundred Lives

by MiladyDeWinter (Techno_Queen)



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Gen, Reincarnation, Sad Ending, So basically Bunny screws up, and Jack pays the price
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techno_Queen/pseuds/MiladyDeWinter
Summary: “I hereby give you one hundred lives and one hundred deaths, to use as you see fit. If, by the time you reach your final death, you manage to atone for your sins, and to earn my forgiveness and that of those you have harmed, than you will be released from your agony, and be laid to eternal rest. If, however, you fail in this, than you will be doomed to an eternity as a mere shadow of your former self, a wandering soul that is forever denied a final resting place, and you will roam the universe, unseen and unheard, in endless torment. In this way I curse you, Jokul Frosti...In this way I, E. Aster Bunnymund, curse you.”(Or: Bunny curses a random winter spirit and everything goes to hell in a handbasket after that)





	One Hundred Lives

_For the longest time, he lived alone, not because he couldn’t find friends if he so chose, but because he preferred solitude to companionship and silence to noise. Winter was a season meant for silence, after all, and it was not unreasonable to assume that its caretaker would be just as interested in an existence spent in quietude. As such, Jokul Frosti was a loner in the truest sense of the word, and for many years he remained that way, a lone wolf in a sea of lone wolves._

_One afternoon, however, a change was brought to his life in the form of an accidental meeting. For the first time, someone tried (albeit inadvertently) to infringe on his tranquillity, to bring him out of his shell, to introduce him to such foreign concepts as that of ‘conversation’ and ‘friendship’ and ‘people’._

_That someone, he would later learn, was E. Aster Bunnymund, Creator of Life. The lagomorph was ridiculously uptight, always speaking in extremely formal tones and only leaving his Warren when clothed in a heavy, proper coat, even in exceedingly warm weather. The rabbit was, in short, hilarious, and something about him automatically made Jokul want to mock him and make fun of him._

_This constant taunting and exchange of banter soon evolved into a friendship between the two, a camaraderie that developed from harsh jeering to gentle teasing to full-blown trust and closeness. For the first time, Jokul Frosti had a friend, and for the first time he was not averse to the idea._

_That would soon change, however, and not for the better._

_It was an accident, really, a momentary loss of control. Jokul hadn’t meant to cause an ice age, he really hadn’t, but being in charge of all of winter was hard, and he couldn’t really be blamed for temporarily losing his control, could he?_

_Apparently, Bunny thought otherwise._

_Never before had Jokul heard such words from the normally impassive Pooka. Insults, curses, accusations, if you could imagine it than it was likely said on that day. One of the reasons Jokul had renounced having friends in the first place was that they turned against you so easily._

_The most damaging thing that the Pooka had said, however, was a curse. Not one of those swears that would have made a sailor wince, but an all-out curse, like those said by witches and sorcerers._

_“Curse you, Jokul Frosti, curse you and all your kind! You winter spirits live only to kill and maim and hurt, to twist the truth with lies and use the hearts of others to your own end, and it would be a favour to decent folk if I were to destroy every last one of you! However, I am not a killer, Jokul Frosti, not in the way that you are, and as such I hereby consign your brethren to suffer until the end of time, to be permanently hated by all without exception. But not you, Jokul Frosti, you shall not be punished so lightly._

_“I hereby give you one hundred lives and one hundred deaths, to use as you see fit. If, by the time you reach your final death, you manage to atone for your sins, and to earn my forgiveness and that of those you have harmed, than you will be released from your agony, and be laid to eternal rest. If, however, you fail in this, than you will be doomed to an eternity as a mere shadow of your former self, a wandering soul that is forever denied a final resting place, and you will roam the universe, unseen and unheard, in endless torment. In this way I curse you, Jokul Frosti...In this way I, E. Aster Bunnymund, curse you.”_

~=~

Jack Frost had always, _always_ hated E. Aster Bunnymund, from the very moment of his rebirth from the lake.

Why, exactly, he didn’t really know. It wasn’t a conscious effort, a way of thinking brought about by a bad experience or cruel rumours. Rather, it was more of a subtle nagging at the back of his mind, a part of him that irrationally despised the lagomorph even before he’d known the rabbit existed. It was this prejudice that had led him to create the disastrous Blizzard of ‘68, that automatically caused him to mock and deride the Pooka during Easter ‘12, that to this day still occasionally left sharp barbs hidden in the otherwise well-meaning banter that he shared with his furry coworker.

It wasn’t really fair, he realized. Bunny had done nothing to him. There was no reason for this bitterness, for this poisonous loathing that infected his mind and ate at his heart. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t banish the feeling of pure animosity that lay hidden in his soul, no matter how hard he tried.

It was incredibly annoying. He knew he was better than this, knew that Bunny was an intelligent, proud, grumpy warrior and painter with adorable fluffy ears and a hilarious accent. Bunny was, all things considered, a pretty nice guy, and had done absolutely nothing to warrant Jack’s chilling scorn.

It didn’t help. The baseless anger and malice still remained, twisting his perception of the Pooka. Over and over again he convinced himself that he shouldn’t hate his fellow Guardian, and over and over again he slipped back into his old way of thinking. Bunnymund was bad. Bunnymund had _hurt_ him. Bunnymund deserved to face his crimes.

 _What crimes?_ he asked himself. _What crimes? Bunny didn’t do anything to me. I shouldn’t hate him like this. Why do I hate him?_

 _Evil,_ his mind growled back at him. _Evil. Don’t trust him. He hurt you. You hate him._

 _He didn’t hurt me,_ he argued back, _so why do I hate him?_

It would take several more years before that question was finally answered. 

~=~

If Tooth didn’t stop talking about teeth within the next three minutes, Jack was going to die from boredom.

Not that Jack didn’t understand the importance of teeth and the memories they contained, far from it, but teeth just weren’t really his area. His interests were more skewed in favour of snowball-fights and freezing people’s tongues to lampposts than endless ranting about incisors and premolars and other strange mouth parts. He just didn’t have the same obsession with blood, teeth, and gums that Tooth seemed to be consumed by.

“And you should have seen Amelia’s incisor, Jack, it was perfectly flossed, it’s wonderful to think that a six-year old would be so good at taking care of her teeth--”

Yeah. Totally not his area of expertise, or even mild interest. He liked the fact that many kids were brushing and flossing properly, and that their memories were so carefully stored and taken care of, but he didn’t want to hear about nothing but teeth for three hours, and he dared anyone other than Tooth to exhibit such an avid interest in the topic. Dentists didn’t hold a candle to Tooth, the level of her fanaticism was in a class of its own. On a scale from one to ten on the “Teeth-Obsession Meter”, she not only went off the charts, she set the charts on fire and walked away.

“Thomas hasn’t been doing so well, though, I’m pretty sure he hadn’t flossed once since his birth, his teeth are riddled with cavities--”

Jack did his best to hide the yawn that threatened to emerge, and waited.

“Ethan has been fantastic, though, he’s really started to improve his brushing habits--”

Jack didn’t bother trying to resist. “So, he’s been _brushing_ up on his tooth-brushing? It really seems like he’s _cleaning_ up his act.”

Tooth took a moment to understand the joke, but once she did, she gave him a look that could be accurately described as the pictorial definition of ‘unimpressed’. “Very funny, Jack. I’m dying from laughter. I’m sure that decades from now, the world will still speak of your joking-prowess, and will make sacrifices in your name, praying to you so they may share your wondrous skills.”

Jack blinked at the sudden outpour of sarcasm from the Sister of Flight. “Didn’t know you had a sarcastic streak, Tooth.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s one of the things that I inherited from my father. I’ve mostly given up on it over the past few centuries, though, since I didn’t really have someone who understood it. North doesn’t get sarcasm, Sandy is a star and can’t fathom most human humour, and Bunny is in the same boat as Sandy, except he’s a Pooka instead of a star. Which really just makes things worse, since Pookas were very focused on relying on logic and reason and they didn’t have many forms of humour.”

Jack ignored the venomous twisting in his chest upon hearing Bunny’s name, instead opting to hide behind flippancy. “No one who spoke your language, huh? Yeah, I’ve had that problem. Kinda hard to make jokes when you’re the only one who understands them. Turns out the Wind doesn’t have much of a sense of humour, who knew?”

Tooth smiled gently. “I can imagine. But this wasn’t why I called you here, oh dear is that the time I’m terribly sorry for making you wait--”

Jack was quick to reassure her, hand raised in a calming gesture. “It’s no problem, Tooth. Don’t worry about it.”

When it looked like she was about to protest, he swiftly changed the subject. “Now, wasn’t there a reason you called me? Do you need my help with something?”

“No, not really. It’s just something strange that I wanted to show you. Do you think you could have a look at it?”

~=~

Jack raised first one eyebrow, then the other, at the mass of tooth canisters that covered the Tooth Fairy’s desk, laid out in a neat, organized grid. Some were the traditional gold that indicated a human child, while others were the burnished silver that signified that the memories belonged to a spirit. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me here, Tooth.”

Tooth wrung her hands. “It’s...I’m not entirely certain, Jack, but it looks like all of these belong to the same person. I don’t know, I’ve never experienced something like this before.”

Something about what she said caught Jack’s attention. “The same person? So kinda like reincarnation?”

“...Sort of. I think. Like I said, I’ve never heard of this before, but it definitely looks like these are all the same person. I’ve never seen memories between different people to be so well connected. It’s like they’re all joined by strings, one starting where the previous left off.”

“Huh. That’s weird,” he stared at the mass of cases, head tilted slightly to one side as he considered. “Still, why did you call me? This isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

Tooth gestured towards the desk. “Take a closer look.”

Still puzzled, Jack hesitantly picked up one of the golden canisters and examined it. It looked no different from any of the other cartridges, bright gold with the familiar pattern of blue, green, and purple diamonds that decorated the top like a mosaic. Brow furrowed, he took a look at the picture attached to the side of the box--

And instantly felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the stomach, air whooshing from his lungs and everything.

The picture on the canister was definitely not one of him, but it was surprisingly similar. Though the boy in the picture had green eyes and black hair instead of his own blue and white, the face was very much like his own, almost unnervingly so.

What concerned him the most, however, was not so much the similarity, which could easily have been a coincidence, but the way that the canister seemed to ‘fit’ him, a feeling he’d only ever experienced with the container that housed his own memories.

As impossible as it may seem, these were _his memories._

Suddenly panicked, he picked up another case. And another, and another, and another, all with the same result, the same sensation of ‘fitting’, like they belonged to him. A hunted look in his eyes, he found himself trying to count them. There were at least a hundred of them, he could almost instinctively tell, at least a hundred of the shiny receptacles, all of which belonged to him.

“...These are all _mine,_ ” he rasped, abruptly finding it extremely difficult to speak.

“...I thought as much,” Tooth said very carefully, as if she were trying to calm a frightened animal. “You were the only one they seemed to fit. Jack, are you all right?”

He felt like he was going to faint. “I’m fine. Listen, Tooth, can I have a look at these? Please?”

“Of course, Jack, they’re yours after all. Just remember to return them when you’re done, and please let me know if you need my help.”

His throat felt surprisingly dry, even as he nodded. “I will.”

~=~

The first several dozen of them were somewhat interesting, but yielded no information as to how this phenomenon had occurred. For the most part, all they did was strengthen his conviction that yes, these were all his memories, and yes, somehow or other he’d ended up being reincarnated multiple times.

Boreas was one such reincarnation. Morozko was another. Itztlacoliuhqui, Ded Moroz, Father Winter, Old Man Winter, Aisoyimstan, Kuraokami, Khuno: all those were names he’d carried in his past lives, along with countless human names that he couldn’t even begin to remember, what with how many there were. Something which he still found a little strange was that he’d also been female a few times. Khione, Poli’ahu, Marzanna, Beira, Skadi; hell, he’d even been a Yuki-Onna once or twice. If that wasn’t weird, than he didn’t know what was.

There still remained one unopened box, however. He’d been avoiding this particular container, feeling a curious anxiety that he didn’t experience when he was faced with scouring the other cases, but now was the time to push back his emotions and muster the courage to open the canister. Somehow, he knew that this one was the one that contained all the answers, the one that would put his investigation to an end. 

He took a deep breath, then another, then another.

Then, he tentatively opened the last box, a silver one with the name ‘Jokul Frosti’ etched on the side in cursive letters.

~=~

“Why would you do something like that?”

A question that should have been simple, and yet Bunnymund couldn't find it within himself to answer. Instead, he stood shell-shocked, glancing first at Jack, than at the silver tooth canister in his hand, then back at an increasingly irate and betrayed-looking Jack. 

Now that the truth was revealed to him, it was quite easy to connect the Jokul Frosti of the ice ages with the Jack Frost of modern times. Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d missed it before, all the signs had been there right in front of his nose, waiting for him to notice them.

...He didn’t know how to react. Cursing Jokul Frosti was an action that he would regret to the end of his days, but the fact that Jack Frost was now caught in the crossfire…

It made things that much worse. 

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hugged Jack Frost. The winter spirit went stiff in his arms, but Bunny merely held him close as he nuzzled the young man’s hair.

“I’m sorry, mate. I’m so sorry.”

~=~

“I’m sorry, mate. I’m so sorry.”

Words that should have been empty and void, but surprisingly enough, weren’t. Bunny sounded sincere in his apology, his tone completely devoid of the lies that Jack instinctively expected.

It made things that much worse.

Almost before he knew it, Jack felt himself break down, felt tears coming into his eyes and harsh sobs rip his throat. He crumbled inwards, practically despairing as one final realization made itself clear to him.

The death of Jackson Overland, the demise of a common shepherd boy, had been his hundredth death. His last chance. One hundred tooth boxes, one hundred lives, one hundred deaths.

_If, however, you fail in this, than you will be doomed to an eternity as a mere shadow of your former self, a wandering soul that is forever denied a final resting place, and you will roam the universe, unseen and unheard, in endless torment..._

It was too late for Bunny to forgive him now. Jack Frost would never die, would never have a true resting place. He would remain when his friends died, would remain when the world ended, would still be around even after the death of the universe itself. A mere shadow of his former self, wandering the universe in endless torment.

The strange part was that even though now he knew the true cause of his loathing for Bunny, he couldn’t find it within himself to forgive him. If anything, his hatred of E. Aster Bunnymund only grew.

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say, really. All the names I've mentioned Jack having are names of various winter deities, which I won't bother to list because I'm tired.
> 
> Sorry for the abrupt ending, btw.
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome.


End file.
